Mahogany's Theme
Do you know where you're going to?
I thought I did.
Ever since I could speak, I was performing. I loved to be the center of attention, but not by acting out or throwing temper tantrums. I loved to make people laugh and to see people applaud for me after I have single-handedly entertained them. My life plan was made. I got accepted into a prestigious performing arts elementary school, got accepted into a prestigious performing arts college/training conservatory, and as soon as I graduated, I was off to New York to make it big.
Everything was going according to plan. I had mastered the art of being the best at whatever I did. I got all the leads I wanted in high school, and stayed ahead of the game in college. I even managed to go above and beyond a few times. Everyone knew I was on my way to stardom. Within minutes of meeting me, people would say, "you must be an actress or something."
or something was more like it.
There was a time when I knew that there was nothing else in this world that I wanted to do. I knew it would be hard to do, but since that was my only option, that made it easier. Now, as an adult hustling every day to pay bills and still not a household name, I can think of a million other things that I could be doing. I could teach, I could write, I could consult, I could coach, I could go back to school, I could...do a lot of things. I am intelligent and I have a lot of skills.
Confused after all these years of only wanting one thing? Could it be that as an adult, I have finally faced the reality of having to get a real job in order to survive? Or could it be my fear that I'll be a 40 year-old starving artist? One can only "starve" for so long without dying a slow and hungry death...
Something's gotta give, I mutter to myself on my way to another unfulfilling job. I didn't go to school for this, I did not spend my entire early life preparing for
this...They say that once you have a job that you love, you'l never have to work day in your life.
Patience is a virtue. My patience is wearing thin. Hard work pays off. Well, I'm tired. If at first you don't succeed, try and try again...so when do you say enough is enough?
I could do a lot of things...I could teach, I could write, I could "keep at it" and possibly bartend for the rest of my life...
or I could accept the fate of Mahogany's theme that haunts me every single day:
Do you know where you're going to?YES...no...I don't know. Does that answer your question?
The Name Game
Men dominate hip-hop; this is no surprise. I always find it interesting, however, how women are represented in some of today's hip-hop hits. The names says it all. It says a lot about how men in the hip-hop industry look at us in correlation to real life.
Now it is also no surprise that artists have made it a habit to degrade women in their songs, with such lovely pet names as bitch and ho. ( My mind automatically goes to that Ludacris song, "Pimping All Over The World" where he says "sing it, Hoes" and they keep crooning) And they all have their own little meanings: My Bitch = she'll do whatever I want her to. My Ho = she'll do whatever I want her to do sexually. My Trick = she'll do whatever I want her to do sexually, and bring me the money when she is done.
But they have gone a step further from degradation, and are now downright condescending. For instance, if in the lyrics the artist is speaking of a woman representative of some type of love interest, he refers to her as shorty, baby girl, or something equally as bad. I will bet any amount of money that the first guy to refer to a girl as shorty was looking down at her at that very moment. Anything to reaffirm that he is physically (and perhaps mentally) bigger than her. Even the word pussy; a slang term for our genital area, but also a
condescending slang name, (very prominent in hip-hop music, I might add) for a punk who can't handle business or step up to the plate.
Or they will go to the oppostite side of the spectrum and call us Ma or Mami. If he is not looking for his own Mama, I guess any "mami" will do, huh? Very few refer to us their girl or lady anymore. Too much like right I guess. What makes you think I want to be a grown man's Mama?!?! I mean, seriously, you don't hear women out there referring to their men as their "sons", now do you?
In the age of the Almighty Independent Black Woman, it is a little hard to believe that even in a neo-culture such as hip-hop, we are still being forced to be "kept in our place". Hip-hop is no longer just music; it's a way of life. So the leading by example that is being portrayed is kind of scary. Is this men are going to see us so long as hip-hop is at the fore-front of American culture.
I remember back when we actually had names in songs...Roxanne...Iesha...Kisha, Angela, Pamela, Renee...all a guy wanted was a girl...an around the way girl, a candy girl, a Liberian girl...just a girl.
Man, I remember that.
True Romance
I was reading someone else's blog on this topic, and realized that I not only wanted to respond to her, but to everyone who responded to her blog entry.
Romance is a funny thing.
romance - 2 : something (as an extravagant story or account) that lacks basis in fact 3 : an emotional attraction or aura belonging to an especially heroic era, adventure, or activity What compelled me to write on this subject were how the responses varied. Some women love romance; some could take it or leave it. I would like to challenge this theory; I think all women love, and can appreciate romance. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but hear me out before jumping up to defend your unromantic virtue.
Webster had quite a few definitions for the word
romance. I chose the two that were most appropriate to what most people view romance as. Number 2 has a negative connotation; Number 1 a positive one.
Every woman can appreciate romance; this is why the majority of us can watch a romantic comedy, or a romantic movie, or even romantic ventures of other people. For example, even if you supposedly don't care for romance, if someone you know tells you a romantic story, you can't help but to appreciate it. But some women see this as a fantasy - it couldn't possibly be a reality for
them. Deep down, they feel like they are not worthy of romance. They think of definition #2 - that this notion is exaggerated and not based on fact.
Now another kind of woman knows that she too is worthy of movie-like, fantastical romance. She is secure enough in herself to feel capable of "an emotional attraction" that belongs to a special activity. Not only can you experience it, but girls, you deserve it! It's not like it's hard work. Hell, it's not even expensive. A few words here, a note there, a few flowers, a great and phenomenal night every once in a while...
Why is it that every woman involved in a long-term relationship is mourning the death of Romance? Why is it that women who have conquered one of the ultimate obstacles in life (finding a man that is willing to stick around and be loyal) have to do so with the notion that romance is now uneccessary, or even worse, an exaggerated form of expression?
The two definitions I found for romance are almost completely opposite! Does this mean that they cancel each other out? Is there no middle ground, no gray area, no in-the-middle of unrealistic extravagance and activity involving emotional attraction and adventure?
You're damn right there ain't no middle ground. Relationships cannot survive on middle ground; marriage cannot survive in a gray area. If he stops trying to romance (the latter definition) you, then he will stop trying in other areas as well. And if he does give you romance, appreciate it and allow yourself to give in emotionally. Don't think of it as an exaggeration of his love; it's real, and you deserve at least that much, if he loves you. Don't fool yourself into thinking you can take it or leave it, because you'll be leaving it for the rest of your life.
And that's the truth; no romance (the former definition).
Comfort Food
I have recently discovered that more than anything in this world, nothing can make me feel more comforted than...food. I eat when I'm upset, bored, happy, sad, sick, etc. Food is so versatile.
When I'm pissed, I eat something sweet to neutralize my anger. The taste of sugar makes me smile automatically. Something quick and sweet normally does the trick.
When I'm bored, I'll eat something fun that takes a little bit of concentration, like Oreos with milk (you dunk them too long they will be too soggy, but if you don't dunk them long enough, it doesn't taste right and is just messy), or something that makes you anticipate, like a Blow-Pop or an ice cream cone (two treats in one - brilliant), or food that forces you to multi-task, like Lucky Charms (do you always want marshmallows
and horseshoes in one spoonful?) or Alpha-Bits (I always only end up spelling like three words per bowl). Boredom can also bring on food challenges, can I endure the heat of a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos? or can I wrap my mind around the complexity of an odd combo, like tuna salad with Tostitos.
When I'm happy, I'll eat something that feels good in my mouth and is tasy (translation: SWEET). The physical formation of my mouth eases into a smile when custard-style yogurt folds onto my tongue. Or the excitement of pushing my tongue through creamy ice cream to identify, taste and swallow whatever was hiding throughout the ice cream. The burst of the sweet and tangy from plums and raspberries is good too, in case I want to attempt to be healthy (which is rare). Dove or Lindt chocholate is always silky smooth, like each bite is kissing me back, and the crackling rice covered in chocholate of Nestle Crunch always makes me excited.
When I'm sad, I will eat as much and as horribly as I possibly can. It's like I wrap myself in a blanket of cake icing and cry into a bowl full of raw cookie dough, each chocolate chip representing a tear. Then I take a large wooden spoon, cover it with peanut butter, and dunk out my frustrations into a pound bag of plain M&M's.
And when I am not feeling well, the grainy texture of moistened and swallowed saltine crackers followed by the jetstream of club soda always eases and relaxes my tight and upset stomach.
For some odd reason, when I eat green, crispy sour apples, it makes me feel like my teeth are clean. Go figure.
I know people say it is bad to turn to food for comfort, but I will say this. Food has the ability to make you feel warm, full, calm, and good all over, whatever your vice. It will hardly ever disappoint you, especially if you know exactly what it is you want. There always seems to be a way, with food, that you can have your cake and eat it too.
Kind of brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "comfort food", doesn't it?
The Reality of a Cancer
I was talking to a friend of mine whose zodiac sign is Cancer, just like mine. I asked her what qualities she thought were true about herself that zodiac experts say are typical of Cancers. She said everything that everyone says about Cancers: emotional, sensitive, moody, caring, nurturing, etc. I thought, ok, I'm not all that moody (I have to be provoked), but the rest got a nod of agreement. Then she said something that piqued my interest:
"Cancers have a way of creating their own reality sometimes."
Hmmmm....my mind immediately raced around searching for instances where I just made up my own reality. And there were so many to choose from. My reality changes from moment to moment.
When I am in my house alone, I pretend that I am completely someone else. It is amazing what you can make yourself into when no one is there to judge you. Sometimes, I am a strong woman, who could care less about whether or not a man is in her life...I can just sit there and wait to reap the benefits of life when you live it courageously....
And I use test subjects to try out new ideas and theories that I want to have. I have recently been working in an environment where the people don't know me very well. I have decided that, realistically, I can be a little less honeysuckles and sunflowers in my demeanor and psyche - especially in the way that I feel about men.
I decided that, for me, marriage is overrated. I have been so disheartened as every hope and dream I have ever had for the male species is consistently dashed and shot down. So when the subject of men and relationships came up, I said to myself, it is all or nothing. So I started spouting off about how I didn't care for relationships, all I wanted was a companion to hang out with and more than occasionally have sex with, and I don't really want to get married because marriage today isn't what is used to be, blah blah blah.
Then came the questions and comment portion of the program.
Why do feel that way? Is it because you're in New York? You know, the dating scene in New York is basically non-existent. You just have to wait, the right man will come. He will show up when you are not even looking - if he knows you are looking, you'll scare him away.And that is what took the cake for me. Maybe it's just me, but I am confused. Why do people spend so much time trying to give me hope and boost my self-esteem to get that man of my dreams, only to follow it with "but don't look for him, cuz if he knows you are looking, you'll scare him off." Am I dating or deer-hunting?
So I have to be sure to add to the Manual instructions on how to Stop Looking...that is, when I find out how to do it myself. This is where my test theory comes in. If I convince myself that I don't want it, then I won't look for it. Sounds easy enough.
Of course the girls that I was conversing with both have had their boyfriends for like the past eight years, and are just a couple of his paychecks away from getting a ring...and that is great for them, and I mean that. Marriage is wonderful for people who have properly rehearsed how to cohabitate and communicate with another person like that. I haven't, and I am scared.
**a confession**
I am scared of all possible outcomes. I am scared that I won't ever meet anyone I want to marry. I am scared I
will meet someone I want to marry, and eventually, he will disappoint me so much, that I will be emotionally scarred. I am scared that I will meet this wonderful man, and even with all of his great attributes, discover that I am still a little "too much" for him. And I don't want people to tell me that one day I will find that special someone, because some people have found that special someone that found someone more special than them a few years (or months...or weeks) later. And to be quite frank, I don't want to wait and see. Whimsy in the female Cancer is a common myth; I need absolutes. I wanna know now, no surprises, no gray, no just going about my day to day, and then, BOOM getting smacked in the head with Love, being captured by it, only to be released when the thrill of the chase is over, and it's time to conquer some new unsuspecting hopeless creature...
I digress.
I consider myself to be a brave and courageuous person. But that is a risk that truly scares me. I can dance like nobody is watching, but I don't think I'll ever have the ability to love like it's never gonna hurt.
I want my reality to be that I can live my life and just not give a fuck about what people think, how scared I am of what he might want, or how scared he is of what I might want. For just a moment, I want to put on the costume of the Don't Give a Fuck character, give a wonderfully believable performance, and stand there and receive as the audience applauds and gives me a standing ovation.
"And the Oscar for Best Actress in a Realistic World goes to....."
And the crowd goes wild.
Estrogen Sucks
I am in so much pain right now.
I did not injure myself, I'm not ill, I'm not even on my Moon Cycle...(that is my nice way of saying that Aunt Flo has come and gone, thank God)...
I hate being a woman today. Today, I have experienced a fresh kind of hell.
I got my eyebrows threaded.
Why, oh why did society make it unacceptable for women to walk around with a full beard and mustache? Why does everything we do in order to stay beautiful hurt? We even hurt naturally!
Period = cramps
Pregnancy = unexplainable pain (or so I've heard)
Menopause = hot flashes and various aches.
This what was done to me today - A petite Indian lady wound up some thread, put it in her mouth to steady it and keep the string taut, and proceeded to rip out the hair by winding the thread around each hair. All of this was done faster than the speed of light.
This is what it
felt like - She took a pair of rusty pliers and plucked the hair in my eyebrows from my actual hair follicle. I would be surprised if it ever grew back, because I swear it felt like she ripped the entire root out with a single piece of thread. After that, she took a cotton ball soaked in alcohol and swiped it across the tender, hair-free skin, then proceeded to set fire to the area with a blow torch.
And you would assume that the waxing of the upper lip would have been better, right? Wrong. She applied the wax on my upper lip with a wax roller, and smeared wax on my upper lip the way a child would smear glue on construction paper with a glue stick. While I was trying to determine whether or not I actually felt wax in my mouth, she, without warning, applied the muslin strip and ripped untill every hair was gone. All I could think of was my poor little mustache hairs clinging for dear life to this mass of icky goo and then ripped from it's foundation. My upper lip now looks like somebody punched me with brass knuckles.
I shared this story with a male co-worker of mine, and he said, "Yeah, I can see how that would be a little uncomfortable."
a little uncomfortable??A maxi pad that is shifting in my underwear is
a little uncomfortable.
a thong is
a little uncomfortable.
Having something either ripped off of you, leaking from you, pushed out of you kicking and screaming, shoved inside of you repeatedly**, or having products crammed inside the pores of your skin at least three times a day is slightly more than
a little uncomfortable.
**Clearly, I'm referring to tampons. There are
some things about being a woman that ain't so bad. ;o)
The Object of my Affection
Has anyone noticed the similarities between Black women and gay men?
Maybe it's just me, but it seems as if a lot of gay men (no matter their race or ethnicity) have a lot in common with Black women. Now I have always been a bit of a Fag Hag, but I am starting to notice a correlation.
Most Black women have at least one good, gay male friend. I realize that this all sounds stereotypical, but I am speaking from my personal experiences. I cannot tell you how many times I have looked over at my outrageously handsome and outrageously gay male friend, and wished to God that he was straight. And he has often said the same about me.
Here are the qualities I see in my gay male friend. He's almost perfect - he's everything you could possibly want in a guy. All of the sensitivity and empathy a man can possibly have, a great sense of style, and a touch (or more) of pure masculinity. He cares about what I think of everything, from my outfit to my career. It is nice how he is not threatened by my friendships with other men. That is my ideal mate...Without the gay part, of course.
Now here is what I see in gay men that I also see in Black women; a strong sense of self. A confidence unparalleled by any other walking this earth. A fuck you, I don't give a fuck what you think of me, this is who I am, who I will always be so deal with it attitude. When one is forced into an under-priveledged position, I believe one must adopt this attitude to survive.
See the similarities now?
I wonder what relationships are like for him; he seems to have the same problems I have most of the time. I wonder if he thinks I am as perfect for him as I think he would be for me...You know, if the whole gay thing weren't an issue.
I see myself walking down the street, hand in hand with my (gay) boyfriend...And for a moment I pretend he is mine...impeccably dressed and incredibly handsome...he is so sweet, so openly affectionate...so understanding of me and what I go through and who I am as a
person, not just as a woman or his woman...then some cute guy walks by and we both turn to look; my reverie is broken, and I snap back into reality. I wonder what he is thinking as we walk...
That I would be perfect for him, if only I were a gay man? We promised each other two children if neither of us were attached by the age of 40...
I've decided, that's it. Just like Jennifer Anniston in that movie
Object Of My Affection. We are perfect for each other.
Except for the fact that he doesn't possess the one quality I can count on every straight man in the world to have, if
nothing else - the desire to want to jump my bones. Perhaps sex is overrated...
yeah, right.
*sigh*
Ghetto
ghet·to (noun) 1 : a quarter of a city in which Jews were formerly required to live
2 : a quarter of a city in which members of a minority group live especially because of social, legal, or economic pressure
3 a : an isolated group b : a situation that resembles a ghetto especially in conferring inferior status or limiting opportunity
It makes me cringe to hear people use the term ghetto in 2005. Above is Mirriam-Webster's definition of the word. It's as if we have taken it upon ourselves to change the meaning. Here is DQ's definition based on how I have been hearing it used lately:
ghetto (adj.) 1: a term that is used to describe anything that is not "up to par"; something that is no longer functioning at it's full potential; something of lesser value than it's counterparts; a make-shift or homemade object of little to no value.
2: a term used to describe one's behavior and style, particularly someone that grew up in a particular neighborhood that is considered to be of inferior status or limiting opportunities.
Notice a difference? And strangely enough, I am not hearing this term misused so much out of the mouths of African-Americanss...I was watching a tv show last night, and I heard it used so many times I was actually shocked. I am an avid fan of Big Brother 6, in case anyone is following along, and Ivette is always talking about her "ghetto slide" (a make-shift Slip N' Slide that she made out of garbage bags) and her "ghetto birdfeeder" (a birdfeeder made out of an old water bottle) and so on and so forth. When I was in college, there used to be a grocery store in walking distance of campus. It wasn't the nicest grocery store in the neighborhood, and students were constantly referring to it as the "ghetto" grocery store. Or if something doesn't work right anymore, it's "ghetto".
The people that are using this term in this manner have probably never even been to a
real ghetto. And can you compare a raggedy little make-shift water slide made for your enjoyment to people using their resources to make the best out of what they have? Because that is how it goes down in the ghetto.
And oh how I wish that was all.
Ghetto is now used to describe a style; now someone has the ability to look "ghetto", and immediately is judged by it. And the worst is when it becomes a proclamation. Some little triumphant White girl who just so happens to be able to sing the hook of the lastest rap song is now deemed "ghetto". Or by wearing the right style of clothes, or watching an hour of BET gets some non-Black person their Honorary Negro Card.
Most people that actually live in the ghetto spend a good deal of time trying to get away from it. Away from that lifestyle that has been created out of neccessity, and is now being capitalized on by cross-over groupies who think they "know" cuz 50 Cent told them all about it in his one song...and the girls in his video are all light, bright, and damn near white anyway...I digress.
There are so many other words we can use for our purpose. Ivette could have made a
bootleg slide. Or a
janky birdfeeder.
One day I'm gonna be looking at someone's outfit and say "that looks so Hamptons". Or if I make something that works exceptionally well, I will say "Look, I made mine Martha's Vineyard "...whatcha think?
On second thought...nah, never mind. That would just be really ______ .
Note To Self...
- never eat Mexican food before going to a dance rehearsal.
- never forget to put on deodorant.
- never stare at someone for too long on the subway.
- if you fart on the elevator, be the second person to smell it, then ignore it.
- never call a guy more than twice before he calls you back.
- always wear nice underwear.
- burps smell too.
- get a Master's degree.
- sing in the shower.
- add "me time" to my To-Do List.
- call my family more.
- shake those haters off.
- tell the people care about that you care about them.
- get back in touch with old friends.
- read The Boondocks.
- it could ALWAYS be worse.
- stop biting my fingernails.
- avoid the craving for cheeseburgers; a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.
- then again, I only live once; have that cheeseburger.
Temp-orary Insanity
Do you know what it feels like to be temporary?
I am currently working at a job as a temp, and let me tell you, it sucks. This is the only place where they can expect me to know everything and treat me like a dummy at the same time. It is completely nervewracking. I'm working in a Corporate Textiles Detp. of a major apparel company. Now I am woman of many talents; fabric and clothing and stuff is not one of them. So half the time my "colleagues" are speaking textile gibberish to me, and they might as well be speaking French because I have no clue what they are talking about, and the other half of the time they are treating my like I have come here to learn how to read. ("This is a copy machine. Do you know how to use it?" **
said in a kindergarten teacher-esque voice)
I am grateful to even have a job, don't get me wrong. But it's funny how life works out sometimes. I have a degree in Drama, which is the equivalent to a degree Cake Decorating. But nonetheless, I have a degree. So why am I stuck in this hopeless job?? I have an interview this Wednesday for a job I think I will like. Please keep your fingers crossed!
You know how I love lists, so here are a couple I thought were appropriate.
Times when it is good to be Temporary:-when you get pissed at something, and then realize, hey, I'm leaving soon, F*** this!
-when you are sick
-when you are angry
-when you really mess something up at your job.
-when your desk is piled up with work and your last day is tommorrow...I repeat, F*** this!
-no one in the office cares if you forget their name.
Times it is not so good to be Temporary:-when you are someone's girl/boyfriend (I guess this depends on how one looks at it...)
-when you do not get a full-time paycheck for doing full-time work.
-when you get used to something only to be uprooted as soon as you adjust.
-no sick or vacation days; you don't work, you don't get paid.
-when you are being used.
-when you go to work on your birthday and there is no cake or balloons, cuz no one knew it was your birthday. :o(
So now that we are schooled on the pros and cons of being temporary, I must say, I am spent. I have been temporary for much too long. But I have a feeling that I am being prepped for bigger and better things. While I understand that I am in training, I am still tired. Being temporary is exhausting work. I would love a resting period.
Consider me Temporarily Out of Service
The Great Escape
To all you future male plotters of The Great Escape...
The Great Escape: n. also known as The Disappearing Act; generally carried out by T.A.N.'s**; an act that is conistently carried out by the aforementioned man; usually after a child has entered the picture, but not neccessarily; particularly when specific responsiblities arise that may inconvenience him in any way. This could be days, weeks, months, or years in effect. The Great Escape is an unfortunate event. It never affects the escapee, but almost always hurts the people that immediately surround him.
I have decided to include a few excerpts for the upcoming book
The Manual:
If you were smart enough to know what to do to make a baby, then you should be smart enough to know how to help take care of it. There actually is a such things as a paternal instinct, whether you choose to ignore it or not.
Just because it didn't come out of you, doesn't mean you don't have anything to do with it.
Questioning whether or not it is really yours will only buy you a little time, and piss the Mommy off. After the tests are back and your time up, guess what. Mommy's still pissed. But don't worry. She will most likely attack your wallet and not you. You can run, but your bank account cannot. The courts will see to that.
You may not think it matters to a child whether or not you are present in his or her life, but it does. Once a child is introduced to it's parents, even if it is just a picture, it never forgets. Even when you try to forget about them, they will never forget about you.
Even if your baby's momma is Oprah, do your part. It is the thought that counts.
A child is not a Playstation; you cannot only play with it when it is new, and then forget about it when the novelty wears off.
Know and understand that after the conception, you will never,
ever have done as much work as Mommy has, so don't take that for granted.
To quote India.Arie..."nothing in this world exists without it's opposite; there has to be a sun and a moon; a man and a woman; and that's just the way it is." You don't see the sun and moon fighting about when to shine; they split the 24 hours equally. Something to think about...
**
Triflin' Ass Negroes
